


Hello, Goodbye

by Fangirlingmanaged



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: I think this counts as fluff, M/M, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark-centric, fluff?, star prince tony stark, tony has a connection to the stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 17:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11741541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlingmanaged/pseuds/Fangirlingmanaged
Summary: I've seen minutes turn to hoursHours turn to yearsAnd I've seen truth turn to powerIf you could see me the way I see youIf you could feel me the way I feel youYou'd be a believerTony carries a nuke into a wormhole, but that's not the most surprising thing. It's not even the Chitauri. The most surprising thing is meetingTHEM.





	Hello, Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I LOVE this headcanon so much, you guys.   
>  [Based on this wonderful Tumblr post](https://rowantreewrites.tumblr.com/post/162487772684/kayvsworld-arukou-arukou)  
> [and this song by OneRepublic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4DFXUndvbw)

They think that when he dreams he’s afraid of the vastness. He saw it in the way that Pepper bit her lip when she woke up with him whimpering in his sleep. He saw it in the way Happy made sure to drive with the windows up when it was late at night. He saw it in the way that the team looked at him with worry every time they had to fight at night. He saw it in the way Rhodes grabbed onto his arm, shook him a little too forcefully, when he got caught up staring at the sky. Most of all, he felt it in the way Steve had rushed out onto the penthouse’s balcony on the nights Tony decided to go outside and look at them.

They don’t understand. He doesn’t blame them for it. After all, how can he when he doesn’t truly understand it himself? When he isn’t even really sure, on the bad nights when his fingers shake for a tumbler in their grasp, that it was even real? He doesn’t expect them to understand what is happening inside his head when he dreams of _them._

He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling of euphoria he felt in those last seconds, between losing the connection to JARVIS and losing consciousness on his way back. He doesn’t know how to explain to them that seeing _them_ brought him the first sense of _home_ he’s ever felt. That what he focused on, with eyes wide open, wasn’t the nuke flying right into the middle of that alien spaceship. He doesn’t know how to make them understand that that was the least important part of the whole endeavor.

He doesn’t know how to tell them that the real miracle wasn’t that they weren’t alone in the vastness of the universe after believing that they were alone for millennia.

The real miracle was meeting _them._

_The stars._

_Kin,_ they’d told them as they twinkled from light years away though he’d felt as though he could reach out and cradle them in his hands like specks of glitter. _We are yours as you are ours. We are all of us made of the same. We are all of us sharing the same core._

He can’t explain what he felt; the way the words had been there even when there was seemingly nobody to speak them. He can’t explain what it felt, the sorrow and the loneliness, when his eyes began to close. He can’t tell them that the fear wasn’t because he thought he was a goner, but because he’d thought he’d lose them.

_Not yet_ , they’d whispered back and he’d closed his eyes and gone back. _You’ve still got time._

It’s not the dark emptiness that keeps him up at night and forces a lump in his throat. That’s what they’d called it, once. Steve and Rhodey and the others. They’d called it _emptiness_ and Tony had laughed almost hysterically at them until their frowns had gone from annoyed to properly concerned. _You don’t know_ , he’d thought in his mind. Seeing those twinkles of light and feeling the warmth, even with the suit and knowing logically that warmth in _space_ shouldn’t be possible. _You can’t feel them._

It’s not _fear_ he feels when he stares out into the dark night sky, it’s _sorrow_. He can’t properly see them, and he’s left to feel cold and alone in a city that pollutes the sky and blurs his connection to them. He can’t feel them, hasn’t felt them since the moment the wormhole closed around him and swallowed him back down into this empty, lonely world he’s been condemned to. It’s the unadulterated sadness of losing something he’d never known he had. Like a child being presented with something he’d never dreamed of wishing for only to have it snatched away too soon. Far, _far_ too soon.

He can’t tell them about _them_ because saying the words makes him hurt far too much.

 

 

And then, years and years later, he’s flat on his back facing that same dark sky. And _they_ are there. And they’re glad to see them, he doesn’t know how he knows this, but the feelings are there. His friends, his _family_ , lays as battered as he is around them. There’s fragments of himself, he can feel them, gone with the dead. He’s standing there, in the wake of Thanos’s destruction with a gauntlet in his hand and the entire _universe_ at his feet, and oh…

_Hello_ , he says in his mind. He doesn’t need to open his mouth for _them_ to know. _Hello!_

_Ah,_ he feels it more than he hears it. That sense. That feeling of… of… words aren’t enough. It’s warmth and home and belonging, all wrapped up in one. _There you are; we have been waiting for you._

_Is it time?_ He asks, and he can’t help the excitement he feels. He’s alone on some hunk of a planet, far away from where he’s supposed to belong, and yet he has never felt more at home. He feels his eyes being wide open, and they are all there. Looking right back at him. _Can I come home now?_

_“Tony!”_

_We have been waiting for you, they_ answer back. He feels his mouth curling up into a smile. His doesn’t feel alone. There is no weight on his shoulders, the feeling of the gauntlet in his hand is almost indistinguishable. What he has done and what has been done to him seems as insignificant as a passing memory.

“ _Tony! Loo—look at me. Tony, ple—please, look at me.”_

And oh, _Steve._ There he is, bloodied and torn and just as bright as _them_. Tony feels his hands, those rough war-beaten hands, cradle his face. He’s looking worried, and he wants to ask him _why._ Can’t he see? Can’t he understand? They’ve won, and Tony has put it all back together as best he can, and they’ve won. They’re done. It’s over. He can—he can go _home_. Can’t Steve see?

_“Come back_ ,” Steve says and his voice cracks. His fingers tighten on his cheek. “ _Tony, come back. Please, come back.”_

_Not yet, they_ say at the same time as Steve pleads. _Not quite yet._

_Please_ , Tony says, begs. _Can I come home?_

_“We can, Tony,”_ Steve says and his thumb makes gentle sweeps on his cheek. And oh, he’s crying. Tony is crying. _“We can go home, now. It’s over. Come back.”_ Vaguely, distantly, Tony sees those bright, _bright_ blue eyes frantically searching his.

_Not yet, they_ say again. Tony feels a sob break out of his chest, and they’re there. They are _all_ there. _His. You’ve got some time yet. You’re not done._

He wants to ask what it is he’s supposed to do. What _else_ can be needed from him? Has he not done enough? But then—

_“Tony,_ ” the words are a whisper. One last plea. And oh. _OH!_

_We are all of us with you. We miss you, they_ say and he’s suddenly filled with it. That same giddiness and warmth and belonging. He’s surrounded by it, enveloped, and that… that is enough. _But you are needed elsewhere right now._

_“Steve,”_ he thinks, and his mouth forms the words. And oh, oh, there it is. He’s pulled into a firm chest, and strong arms wrap around him. A shaking hand cradles the back of his head in a desperately tender hold. And he’s enveloped in warmth and belonging, and it’s not the same, but it’s _close._

_Goodbye,_ he says and he looks at _them_ one last time. They’re there, staring right back him.

_See you soon._

And yes. Yes, he can wait for a while longer. So he finally closes his eyes, and they lull him to sleep and for now, that is enough. That is more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I CRy
> 
> Also, this is like my first not bitter about Steve fic in a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG time LOL


End file.
